Two days later, the Fantome loomed just outside of Arkania’s orbit. Two streaks of light shot away from the Nova-class and towards the planets atmosphere.

Clouds stretched as far as the eye could see, lightning illuminating them in fitful, erratic bursts. There had been no question as to whether the shuttles would navigate their way through the storm. The Chume’doro at the controls remained stoic in the face of what roiled ahead of them. Tarek stood behind the pilot of his shuttle, looking out through the main viewport, searching for any glimpse of the world beyond the tumult. He had memories, dim and distant, of visiting Arkania as a boy. Memories of biting winds and snow drifts up to his waist, of struggling across vast and frozen tundra with only the shape of his father ahead of him, a shadow quickly becoming lost in a blizzard.

At last the shuttle broke shuddering through the thickest of the clouds and the glittering surface of Arkania became visible beneath them. Tarek had only a moment to take in that sight, to be awed the desolate expanse below.

A huge shadow rushed above then ahead of them. Sharp and swift and undoubtedly larger than the shuttle. As Tarek moved to get a better look through the viewport, the shadow scythed through the air in front of the shuttle and let out a shriek that reverberated through the ship’s hull.

“Dragon!”